Chapter 3

Spike insisted on driving the Ford up to L.A. He remembered both the way and the city since neither had any personal connotations for him. Since Buffy wasn’t the best driver in the world— an understatement, as anyone who knew her would have said—she let him. He inevitably and unerringly found some weird oldies station on the radio and now had ‘I Wanna Be Sedated’ blaring at top volume, happily singing along with it. Buffy had her hands to her ears, but was so pleased that he seemed to remember at least something about his taste in music that she didn’t protest. As memories go, this was utterly insignificant; but it was a start.

They got to L.A. before dawn. The first sun rays were only just coming over the horizon by the time they reached the tall steel and glass structure that was Wolfram and Hart’s base in L.A.

“Suits,” said Spike scornfully, shorthand for the kind of people he despised. He switched off the radio and looked the tower over, distinctly unimpressed.

Buffy laughed. “Evil law firm means suits. Can’t get away from that.”

“So what’s this Angel git mixed up with them for?”

“Well, that’s the question. My Watcher, Giles, doesn’t trust him now because of it. But I know Angel’s a white hat. Appearances can be deceiving. Something’s going on that we don’t know about. Turn in there,” she indicated. “That’s the entrance to the underground garage.”

Angel had given her the codes that would allow her to access the private section of the garage if she ever needed it. She punched them in now and Spike drove the car through when the door rose, then found an empty parking space and slid the Ford into it.

“What now?” he asked, turning off the engine.

“We’ve got some time to kill. From what I hear about Wolfram and Hart, they’ll have people there working round the clock. But the ones we want probably keep regular business hours, so we’ll go up then.”

“Right. That’ll give you time to brief me. Tell me about this wanker.”

“Um.” She gave him a condensed and very neutral version of Angel’s history, carefully keeping anything about herself out of it.

“So he gets cursed with a soul and spends a century beating his breast about it? Not exactly pro-active. Seems an unenterprising kind of bugger.”

“He is trying to make amends now. Helping the hopeless.”

Spike’s brows rose. “Maybe he was doing that before, when he was on the streets. But now he’s CEO of a multi-billion dollar firm, the one he’s been fighting for several years. Evil Incorporated, for God’s sake. Sounds like he’s sold out, pet. Made some kind of devil’s bargain.”

“That’s what Giles thinks. But I know Angel. He’ll be trying to change things from the inside.”

“Yeah, right. All that happens when you’re in the belly of the beast is that you get digested.” He shoved the driver’s seat back as far as it would go so that he could stretch his legs out a little better. “How come I didn’t spend a hundred years guilt-tripping when I got hit with this soul thing?”

“Maybe you don’t have a conscience?” she teased and he laughed. “You spaced for a while, but then you came out of it. I don’t know what the difference is. Maybe because of the way you adapt. Maybe because you were caught up with my fight and had a goal. Maybe because he was cursed with a soul, while you fought for yours, and that gave you an edge. I honestly don’t know, Spike.”

He thought that over, then shrugged it away. “So is he my rival?”

“Well, you’ve got a long history. He sired Dru and Dru sired you. But you weren’t the typical vamp. Always had to be a rebel.” She grinned at him when he laughed with satisfaction. “So the two of you have been pretty much in each other’s faces right from the beginning.”

“Gives me an idea of where I stand. But that’s not what I really meant, luv.” His eyes were very blue and mocking. “Is he my rival with you?”

Buffy blushed vividly. “Uh...”

“That means he is.” He was watching her intently, his gaze quizzical and his lids down. “What is he to you, Buffy?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “An old flame. My first love.”

“There are hooks in first loves. Like burrs, the memories cling.”

“Oh, yeah. They did for a long time.” She made a wiping out gesture of her hand. “No longer.”

The scarred eyebrow was flying sardonically and his lips were pulled back into a tight grin that showed his teeth.

“Did you sleep with him?”

“Spike...”

“I need to know, pet. Sure it’s none of my business and I got no right asking you about it. But I’m trying to build a picture here and that’s part of it.”

She bit her lip. “Once. Just once.”

“Well, at least I had three months,” he muttered.

She sighed ruefully, thinking back over her years with Angel. “I was sixteen when I met him and here was this tall, dark, mysterious stranger right out of every teenager’s fantasy. We had this whole Romeo and Juliet thing going, vamp and Slayer. But then it got complicated. The nasty sting to his curse that we didn’t know about is that, if he’s ever completely happy, he loses his soul. We slept together and he did. Willow got it back for him, but we couldn’t stay together after that. Too much of a danger.”

“In case he got that happy again? Might do that just jerking off, f’God’s sake.”

Buffy couldn’t help giggling. He grinned at her.

“Nothing to keep him from giving you a happy, was there? That’s what I’d have done. Woulda stuck around just for that, pet.”

She flushed a little. “You’re hard to get rid of, that’s true.”

“Feels right when you say that,” he said, considering it. “But this Angel wanker left, huh?”

“For my own good. Went to L.A.”

“Was it for your own good?” His lids had dropped again, turning his eyes into narrow, shadowed, cynical curves.

“I don’t know. It sure didn’t feel good to me,” she muttered. “Hurt a long time.”

“Beginning to see, yeah. Issues, you said. He the reason you dumped me?”

“I...”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Makes sense now. Not exactly the glamorous type here.”

“No, you’re not. You’re real. It got messy between us, but you’re real, not a fantasy.”

He looked at her thoughtfully and she looked back unwaveringly.

“You still carrying a torch for him, Slayer?”

“No.”

His brows rose disbelievingly. “No?”

“No,” she said firmly. “I’m not a teenager anymore. Lost my rose-colored glasses a while back, but wouldn’t admit it. Now I know what real love is and it isn’t what I had with him. But he still means something to me. You never forget your first.”

He gave her a swift, sideways glance, vivid with sardonic mockery. “He got that too, did he? No wonder there were issues.”

“Oh, yeah. It wasn’t just my hangup on Angel that ruined things for us. There was a whole world of other issues. Couldn’t deal. Hadn’t grown up. Have now.”

“So what made you grow up?”

“You died,” she said. “You died.”

He turned his head and they stared at each other.

Someone rapped peremptorily on the glass of the car window beside Buffy’s head. She jumped, then found herself looking at a security guard’s frowning face.

She rolled the window down. “Don’t freak,” she said dryly. “We’re just waiting to see someone.”

“Who would that be, miss?”

“Angel.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but I’ve got a standing invitation. Name’s Buffy Summers. Call up.”

They both got out of the car while he did so. When he turned back to them, his attitude had changed markedly.

“Mr. Angel says to go right on up, Miss Summers.”

“Oh, he’s in his office already then?”

“He and his team just got back from a case, ma’am. If you’ll come this way, there’s a private elevator will take you right to his office.”

“Thank you.”

“Private lift,” remarked Spike dryly as the elevator doors shut behind them and they started to rise. “All the perks.”

Buffy touched his arm. “Something you have to understand. He’s not your friend, so don’t buy everything he says. Also, he’s got this habit of doing things for my own good. Taking things into his own hands whether I like it or not. He lays something on you, check with me first.”

“Getting the picture.” He had a reckless, dangerous look on that made her uneasy, his eyes half-lidded.

“Spike. Chill.”

He widened his eyes at her. “Of course, Slayer.”

She realized suddenly that he had started calling her Slayer again, even without his knowing the significance of it. Before, that term on his lips had been both endearment and challenge. She didn’t know whether it was another memory surfacing like his taste in music or whether it was a reflexive response to a situation he instinctively felt held both tension and threat. But it was sweet hearing it. Her heart hurt her.

The elevator doors opened and Angel was hurrying towards them.

“Buffy! I’m glad you...” Then his gaze went over her shoulder and his jaw dropped in shock. “Spike?”

“That’s what I came to see you about, Angel,” said Buffy. “Spike’s back.”

“Can’t keep a good vamp down, mate,” smirked Spike. He dropped an arm across Buffy’s shoulders, his forearm across her collarbone, and stared around at the luxurious surroundings. “Gone up in the world, haven’t you, Grandpa?”

Angel was looking thunderstruck. “But how...You all said he burned in the Hellmouth!”

“Yeah, he did,” Buffy agreed. “Remember that amulet you gave me, Angel? We thought it had been destroyed when Spike burned. I found it again by accident and Spike popped up out of it.”

“Hear it should have been you that burned.” Spike gave Angel a mocking glance. “But you skedaddled, didn’t you? Just cut and ran, as usual.”

Buffy winced. When she had told him today about Angel’s leaving her for L.A., she had forgotten all about telling him last night about Angel’s giving her the amulet. Of course he would put the two things together and come up with that perspective, then happily use the opportunity to hit Angel below the belt.

Angel glared at him. “It was Buffy’s choice! She made me!”

“And you’re so good at doing what you’re told. But I guess it suited you to do that this time. Didn’t have to be the one who fried.”

Angel gritted his teeth. “Frying doesn’t seem to have made you any less of a pain in the ass.”

“Why mess with a good thing?” He tilted his head curiously. “How come you’re standing in sunlight? Thought you were a vamp.”

Buffy too stared at Angel standing full in the rays of the early morning sun pouring through the glass wall of windows that lined the huge room. “How on earth...?”

Angel waved an irritable hand dismissively. “Necro-tempered glass. Why is he...”

“All the perks, is it?” Spike turned to survey his surroundings, looking sardonically at the wall of weapons, the spotlighted artwork, the vases of flowers, then pointedly at the elegant desk, empty right now except for a heavy crystal paperweight. “Get a lot of work done?”

“That’s why it’s empty,” snapped Angel, then scowled at having responded to the provocation.

Under the cover of his duster, Buffy thumped Spike’s thigh in warning. He glanced down at her, his eyes dancing. He knew very well that she wanted him to knock it off, but he wasn’t going to stop any time soon. His arm was still crooked around her neck, holding her to him with an easy familiarity that she realized was designed to rile Angel. Angel was indeed glowering at it.

Spike was moving towards the wall of windows, drawing her with him. She dropped down into an armchair on the way and frowned at him as he grinned down at her.

“‘Top of the world, Ma,’” he said in a Jimmy Cagney voice, looking at the view, then at the busy streets below. He slanted a mocking glance over his shoulder at Angel. “King of a thirty-storey castle with the peons crawling like ants way down there. How much of your vaunted soul did you have to sell for it, Grandpa?”

She realized that he had called Angel ‘Grandpa’ twice now. She looked at him sharply, wondering whether his memory was returning. But then Spike always picked things up with remarkably few clues and she had told him about Angel’s and Dru’s connection to him. He was certainly not using the other far more insulting names he usually called Angel.

“I want an explanation,” said Angel flatly, choosing to ignore Spike.

Spike turned and looked him over scornfully. “So would we. Get in line.”

Buffy waved an exasperated hand at him and told Angel what had happened—about her search for the energy that Willow had picked up, how it had turned out to be the amulet and how Spike had appeared out of it, but without his memory.

“No memory?” Angel’s brows had gone sky high. He glared at Spike who had come to sit on the low back of Buffy’s armchair, his thigh behind her head and one hand playing with a strand of her hair. “His memory seems all there to me.”

“No, it isn’t,” sighed Buffy. “Everything he’s said so far is just Spike being Spike. He really doesn’t remember anything.”

“Hassling you just comes naturally,” murmured Spike and Buffy reached back over her shoulder to slap his knee, an unthinkingly affectionate movement that made Angel glower even harder. She took her hand away quickly.

“Shut up, Spike. Angel, we need to investigate this amulet and Spike’s connection to it. Another thing is that a cop said someone from Wolfram and Hart was searching for something in the crater and now I’m wondering whether it was the amulet he was looking for. Did you send someone down to find it?”

“No.” Angel frowned. “Are you sure it was someone from Wolfram and Hart?”

“That’s what the cop said.”

“I’ll put enquiries in motion. And we’ll get Wes and Fred in here. Do you have the amulet with you?”

Spike pulled it out of the pocket of his duster and dangled it. “Yeah.”

Angel gave it a resentful glance, clearly wishing it had never been found, then headed for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

“Behave,” muttered Buffy to Spike once he had gone. “He might not help us if you’re too much of a pain.”

“Think he’s really gonna be any help?” retorted Spike. “Doubt it. More like he’ll be trying to figure out a way to make the amulet suck me back in.”

She tipped her head back against his thigh to look up at him. “I won’t let him.”

“How you gonna do that?” He frowned in the direction Angel had gone. “Can’t remember him. But a few minutes of that wanker is more than enough for me. Don’t like him. Don’t trust him. By the way, I meant to ask you. Why Angel?”

“Huh?” Buffy looked at him in bewilderment. “What do you mean?”

“Well, they call me Spike and you told me why. So why do they call him Angel?”

“Oh! I heard it was because he looked like one.”

“Come on, Slayer!” said Spike in blank astonishment. “Are angels supposed to have neanderthal foreheads?”

Buffy had to stifle a giggle. That was so Spike. Inaccurate as that was, on the whole, she had to agree with him. Spike was the one who looked like a fallen angel.

“Play nice,” she said under her breath as Angel came back into the room. Spike gave her one of his gorgeous smiles, then looked with interest at Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, Winifred Burkle and Charles Gunn trooping in at Angel’s heels.

They were all staring at him, Fred in bewilderment, Wes warily and Gunn, who hated vamps, with a sneer.

“This is Spike?” said Gunn. “The Spike?”

“The one and only,” purred Spike.

“Doesn’t look like much.”

“Could demonstrate,” said Spike softly and Buffy grabbed the sleeve of his duster to hold him where he was.

“You will not.”

He shrugged indifferently. “Whatever you say, Slayer.”

“I don’t understand,” said Fred hesitantly. “Who is Spike?”

“William the Bloody,” said Wes grimly. “One of the worst recorded vampires around. Second only to Angel.”

“Maybe in that, but in nothing else,” murmured Spike.

“The Scourge of Europe. Responsible for an unbelievable number of deaths.”

“Please. The flattery will go to my head.”

Wes gave Spike a cold, hard look. “I think I remember my father saying he ran across Spike in 1963 while he was slaughtering an orphanage.”

“Your father slaughters orphans?” Spike shook his head reprovingly. “Really not a nice thing for him to do, Percy. Shame!”

Wes’s lips tightened into a harsh line.

“Everybody chill,” said Buffy sharply. “And nobody make any move towards stakes. Spike’s reformed and I’m not going to let anyone hurt him.”

“Reformed?” said Wes disbelievingly.

“You mean, he’s another good-guy vampire?” groaned Gunn. “Like Angel?”

Angel glared. “He’s nothing like me!”

“Got that right,” snapped Spike.

Buffy looked sternly around at all of them. “He’s helped me avert four apocalypses and he saved the whole world in that last one when he destroyed the Turok-Han and closed the Hellmouth. He died doing that!”

“He did that?” said Fred in astonishment. “We never knew! Angel never told us. Why would Spike do that if he’s a vampire?”

“He has a soul.”

“He...has a soul?” Wesley stared at her, then turned to Angel. “Another vampire with a soul? You never said.”

Buffy’s brows rose. “He never said? But Spike has had a soul for ages! For almost a year before the battle with the First.”

Angel shifted uncomfortably when everyone stared at him.

“Guess it wasn’t worth mentioning,” said Wes dryly.

Gunn was frowning. “Seems to have been a lot not worth mentioning.”

“Maybe because he was just cursed with one, but I fought for mine,” said Spike softly and with malice aforethought.

Angel scowled at him. “I thought you couldn’t remember.”

“I told him,” said Buffy. She looked around at all of them. “And that’s why we’re here. Because he’s lost his memory. We want you to help us find out what the amulet did to him.”

“Do you have this amulet?” Wes asked and Spike handed it over. “Why don’t we go up to the lab and take a look at it?”

In the science lab, Wes went straight over to a microscope and began examining the amulet. Fred brought out a scanner and started checking Spike out with it.

“And what are you, Texican?” grinned Spike as she circled him. “Not just scanner girl, I’m thinking.”

“I’m Fred. I head up the Science Division.” She smiled at him. “And how’d you know I’m from Texas?”

“Been around long enough to recognize that soft voice and accent when I hear it. What does that thing say about me then?”

“Everything seems normal. No obvious physical damage of any kind. Nothing unusual. Well, except for being room temperature of course and not having a heartbeat. Typical vamp.”

“Never typical, luv.”

“Could there be a physical cause for his memory loss?” Buffy asked.

“Let me check.” Fred started running the scanner carefully around Spike’s head.

“You say Willow picked up energy from this amulet from London?” Wes said to Buffy.

“That’s right.”

“It’s not putting anything out now. It’s dead. Well, that’s not strictly accurate. There’s a small amount of stored power in it, though not very much. But it’s not broadcasting it now. It’s just neutral. I understand that it was the focal point in the Hellmouth.”

“Spike’s soul activated it, called the sunfire down, channeled it through that amulet. The fire came out like a beam, very intense and concentrated, killing all the Turok-Han. Then it...burned Spike to ash,” said Buffy with difficulty, “and brought the caverns down.”

“Spike’s essence, for lack of a better word, must have been caught and held within it.” Wes looked over at Spike. “Spike, do you have any memory of a strange sensation when it released its energy?”

Spike looked at him scornfully. “What? You mean my skin and muscle burning away from the bone? Organs exploding in my chest? Eyeballs melting in their sockets? No. No memory at all. Thanks for asking.”

Wes looked away in embarrassment, Fred caught her breath and Angel frowned.

Buffy bit her lip hard. It had been bad enough when she had just thought of fire. That graphic description was infinitely worse.

“Oh, Spike, I’m so sorry!” she whispered and Spike’s eyes widened.

“No, I’m sorry, pet! God! I wasn’t thinking. Shouldn’t have said that. But it was such a sodding stupid question. Brought out a kneejerk reaction. I mean, how did he think it bloody felt?”

“I should have pulled that thing off you. The Turok-Han were dead. There was no need to take it further than that!”

“Hey, no.” He put his arms around her, held her tightly as she clung to him. “Worked out, dinnit? I’m here. No worse for wear except for a bitty memory loss. And that’ll go in no time. You said it yourself. Your memory came back after your resurrection.”

“So much pain,” she whispered into the curve of his shoulder.

He kissed her hair gently. “It’s over. It’s in the past. Doesn’t matter any more. Hear me?”

She nodded and drew back, wiping at her eyes. He smiled down at her. Over his shoulder, she saw Angel watching them with cold eyes.

Wesley cleared his throat awkwardly. “The amulet must have captured Spike’s essence and released it when you picked it up. You said nothing happened when you touched it with gloved hands. I wonder whether the touch of anybody’s skin would have released Spike or whether it had to be you specifically.”

“Does it matter?”

“I suppose not,” said Wes dubiously. “But one can’t tell what might be relevant.”

“There doesn’t seem to be anything physically wrong,” Fred said, putting away the scanner. “The memory loss could be mental trauma, but it also could have something to do with the amulet.”

“It will take some study,” Wes agreed.

“Let’s go back down to my office,” growled Angel. “I need a drink.”

Spike grinned. “First good idea you’ve come up with, Grandpa.”

“Will you stop calling me that!”

“What do you want me to call you?” He grinned down at Buffy as all of them left the lab. “What do I normally call him?”

“Well, uh, usually a lot worse.”

“I can believe that.”

“Try my name,” growled Angel. Spike had taken Buffy’s hand as they walked along, their fingers interlinking, and Angel was trying not to look at that.

“Liam?”

“Angel!”

“Nah. Doesn’t feel right.”

Buffy hid a grin. Spike had hardly ever used Angel’s name if he could get in an insult instead. Getting Angel’s goat seemed to be hardwired into him. Even the memory loss made no difference.

As they crossed the lobby, one of Angel’s lackeys came hurrying up and whispered something in his ear. Angel nodded brusquely.

“Mind if I take a call in your office, Wes? I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said over his shoulder, striding away without waiting for Wes to nod.

Buffy and Fred had soft drinks, but Spike, Wes and Gunn all took whiskeys.

“End of the day for us,” said Gunn, noticing Buffy’s surprised glance, “not the beginning of one. Most of the time we’re on regular business hours, but since ninety percent of the clients are demons we work nights a lot. Our body clocks are used to being totally screwed.”

“We’re keeping you out of your beds. We’re sorry.”

“I wouldn’t have missed this for anything,” said Fred, her eyes bright. “This is fun!”

Spike grinned at her as he sat down on the arm of Buffy’s chair and laid his arm across its back. “Like mysteries, do you, Tex?”

“This is either a magical or a scientific puzzle and that gets both Wes and me interested.”

“I’ll have to go through a few books.” Wes had a gleam in his eye that Buffy recognized. She had seen it on Giles’s face a million times—Watcher in research mode. Wes might not be a Watcher any longer, but that scholarly reflex was still there.

“If it turns out to be another freaking prophecy, I don’t want to hear it,” she groaned.

Angel came in and glowered at where Spike was sitting playing with Buffy’s hair again. “There are chairs,” he said pointedly.

“Comfortable here,” said Spike lazily. Buffy glanced up at him and saw the wicked enjoyment in his eyes. He knew very well that Angel noticed and was resenting how close they were staying to each other throughout this visit. Spike was having fun rubbing that in.

Angel poured himself a whiskey, then went to his desk and sat down behind it. He was making a statement by sitting there, instead of on a couch or an armchair. That this was not a social occasion, this was business and: ‘I’m in charge,’ he was saying. Buffy gave him a cool look. It didn’t matter what he thought. He might be in charge of Wolfram and Hart, but when it came to herself she was in charge. She was the Slayer and she wasn’t going to take any shit from anyone any longer.

Angel was glowering at the amulet lying on his desk where Wes had dropped it. “Officially, that thing is Wolfram and Hart’s property. But no one here went looking for it, from what my inquiries have come up with so far. And I didn’t order anyone to.”

“Could be someone using Wolfram and Hart as a front,” suggested Gunn.

“How’d they know about it?” challenged Spike. “How many people have you told, Grandpa?”

Angel glared at him. “Only the people who tracked it down for me. They wouldn’t talk.”

“That scared of you, are they? Wouldn’t count on it, ponce.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed sharply. “It’s a con, isn’t it? You do have your memory. You’ve got some kind of agenda and you’re using Buffy.”

“What? Just because I called you a ponce?” Spike snickered. “That was an observation, not a memory, boyo. And sounds like it might be an accurate one, if you’re getting all hot under the collar about it.”

Buffy jabbed his hip with her elbow. “Shut up, Spike. Angel, he doesn’t have his memory. I know.”

“That searcher might not have had to be told,” Wes interjected hurriedly. “The amulet is a magical construct. Someone sensitive to power could have...”

“How do you know?” Angel snapped at Buffy as if Wes hadn’t spoken. “You’re just buying what he tells you!”

Buffy shook her head. “It’s more than that. The kind of relationship we had, I’d know if he remembered any of it.”

“We had a relationship! He just has history.”

“I had her,” said Spike with soft, deliberate viciousness. “Lots of times, the way she tells it.”

“Spike!” Buffy thumped his shoulder hard with her clenched fist. “Not for public consumption!”

“Sorry, pet,” purred Spike, not sorry at all. He was looking with satisfaction at Angel halfway out of his chair and snarling.

“Angel, sit down,” said Buffy sharply. “I told you Spike was in my heart.”

Angel fell back into his chair, breathing hard as he tried to control himself. “You also said your cookies weren’t done baking.”

“Well, they’re done now.”

“Cookies?” exclaimed Spike incredulously. “Of all the sodding dumb similes...”

“Yeah, that wasn’t my best,” Buffy agreed wryly.

“Um, getting back to the point,” muttered Wes uncomfortably. Fred was blushing and Gunn grinning.

Spike laughed. “Fun day for you sods, yeah? Scandal really livens things up.”

“We really should be looking at what the next step should be,” said Wes repressively.

“We investigate the amulet and Spike’s connection to it,” Angel shrugged. “Giles just called from England...”

“Oh, he did?” said Buffy sharply. “And why would he call you, Angel? You’re not exactly his favorite person.”

“I asked him to call,” said Angel, meeting her stern gaze steadily. “I wanted to tell him about Spike returning.”

“He already knew. I told Willow and had her tell the rest of them.” She looked at him, tight-lipped. “I wish you would stay out of my business, Angel.”

“Spike is my business. He’s family.”

“Which you choose to ignore unless it suits you. Don’t try to snow me, Angel. What you want is to run my life. Doing things for my own good again? I don’t appreciate it.”

“Your Watcher had to know about a dangerous vampire returning!”

“And you couldn’t trust me to tell him.”

“It’s not like that!”

“Isn’t it? And now, I suppose, something urgent’s come up and Giles wants me back in London pronto,” she said sardonically.

Angel avoided her eyes. “You can take the company jet. Spike will stay here and...”

“No,” said Spike flatly.

“No,” said Buffy at the same time. “Spike stays with me.”

Wes threw a swift glance at Angel’s stony face and said quickly, “We really do need to keep Spike and the amulet together while we study them.”

“Willow and Giles are just as qualified as you are to study them.”

“The amulet is Wolfram and Hart’s property,” said Angel. “It stays here. And since Spike seems to be tied to the amulet somehow...”

“No bleeding way!” said Spike, jerking to his feet. “I go where I please! And where I please to go is wherever Buffy goes!”

“If you’re tied to that thing, it might not let you,” said Angel with satisfaction. “It stays here and so do you.”

Spike just looked at the triumph in his face for a moment, then took one swift stride to Angel’s desk, snatched up the heavy crystal paperweight and smashed it down on the amulet.

There was an explosive sound and a blinding flare of white light. Everyone rubbed their eyes, then gaped at the amulet. Its light was gone now, the metal setting badly cracked, and the green stone at its center was crushed to powder.

Buffy flung herself at Spike and held him tight. “You idiot! You reckless idiot! You could have been killed!”

“No one’s bloody property here!” he snarled. “Not gonna be a slave to a sodding rock! Die first!”

“Well, that’s that,” said Wes ruefully, looking at the ruined amulet. “It seems you aren’t tied to it after all, Spike, since you’re still around. Rather a drastic way of testing the issue though.”

“Yeah, well. It got the job done, dinnit?”

“Spike...” Buffy was shaking and couldn’t seem to stop.

Spike hugged her. “Still here, pet. Don’t seem to be that easy to kill, yeah?”

“The risk!”

“Don’t like chains around my neck.” He grinned at her. “Except yours maybe, with a leather collar to go with it.”

She laughed involuntarily.

Angel rose to his feet, scowling. “Buffy, I want to talk to you.”

“If it’s about Spike, I’m not listening. We’ll take that jet you offered though, but not today. We have arrangements to make if Spike wants to come to England with me and I want to talk to Giles first as well.”

“Buffy...”

“I’ll talk to you next time I’m back in L.A., Angel. I’ve kinda got a lot on my plate right now.”

“Buffy, wait!”

Spike looked back as Buffy pulled him into the elevator. His eyes were dancing and vividly blue.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Grandpa.”

“This isn’t over!” exclaimed Angel angrily as the elevator doors closed on them.



TBC